


Three Acts

by phnelt



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Extras, F/F, Mothers and Daughters, families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 14:15:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18152924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phnelt/pseuds/phnelt
Summary: Three times Leandra knew her daughter better than she knew herself.





	Three Acts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumi/gifts).



\--Act 1--

“Come here you beast,” Hawke beckoned to Isabela. But before she could, Isabela leapt into Hawke’s arms, clinging to her through the sheer power of her thighs. All Hawke had to do was brace her weight and enjoy it. And she  _ was _ enjoying it. She never got tired of the feel of Isabela’s breasts pressed against her, the purr in Isabela’s voice when Hawke really worked her up.

She’d heard it earlier in the Hanged Man when she absolutely fleeced a pair of pigeons who had the temerity to try to cheat at Wicked Grace. No one cheats a cheater, let alone a pair of the best cheaters this side of the Waking Sea. 

Unfortunately, they had figured it out eventually and there had been a bit of a brawl, but the upshot was that their blood was pumping and even a walk all the way back to Hightown hadn’t cooled it.

They may have taken a small stopover in an alley or two. But who could blame them!

Hawke attacked Isabela’s mouth with renewed vigour, and Isabela pushed back. Hawke had clearly insufficiently braced herself and they crashed back against one of the many new pieces of furniture Hawke didn’t know or care to name and smashed a vase to the floor. 

They paused.

Breathed for a moment but heard nothing. No curious dwarves, no concerned Mabari.

But it was the worst of all options: the soft patter of the feet of an insightful mother. Though one hardly required detective skills to understand what was happening here.

Hawke lowered Isabela hastily to the ground. Futilely, she attempted to straighten her hair and clothing. Perhaps her mother would think all the damage was from the brawl.

“Are you alright?” Hawke cursed internally.

“Fine, Mother!” Her mother around the corner.

“That’s my cue,” Isabela muttered and tried to scamper away. But Hawke held fast. If this was going to be as awkward as she thought, then they were both going to suffer.

“Oh, Isabela, nice to see you again.”

“Ah, and you, as well. And looking so lovely. As usual! Well, would you look at the time, it’s the hour for Chantry Nugs such as myself to tuck themselves in. And your daughter graciously allowed me to stay so I’ll just head to bed then!” And with that, Isabela fled to Hawke’s bedroom. She rolled her eyes.

“Apologies for the disruption, Mother, I’ll clean up the vase in the morning.”

Her mother just narrowed her eyes. “If this is going to be a habit, Isabela and I really should have a conversation at this time. Meeting the parents is an important milestone in a relationship, you know. Just because I never got to meet your father’s doesn’t exempt you.” 

“Mother, this isn’t a relationship.” She just gestured to the broken vase. “We’re friends! Friends with a close physical appreciation.” She softened herself a little. “I know it’s not the romance you’d want for me, the romance you and father had, but I’m not looking for that. I like what we have right now.”

“And you’re worried that that I could scare her off.” Hawke let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding.

“There is that,” she admitted.

“Well, all right. But I can’t help but feel there’s more going on than a…” she struggled for a moment and an array of horrifying possibilities washed over her, “...a release of youthful spirits. And if you ever want to talk to me, I’m always here.”

“I know, Mother.” She escaped down the hallway and hoped that Isabela would still be there. There was always an even chance that she’d have escaped out the window. But if she was lucky, that Isabela was there, spread out, ready and wanting. 

And Hawke had always liked her chances.

\--Act 2--

Hawke came downstairs in her dressing gown. The official crest on it let her pretend she was dressed enough. Before she’d come to Kirkwall -- before she’d had the house even, she wouldn’t have cared, but Varric had implied that there were Standards now and someone better be upholding them. Hence the crest. Really, she didn’t think she was impressing anyone, but at least she could point and say she tried if anyone asked. 

Which they wouldn’t. 

No one asks the wild rogue with the unlikely survival record anything. Except her friends, and they knew her too well to have any expectations.

It had been a good night last night, and she let a small spring enter her step as she walked into the dining room to see an absolute cartful of food weighing the table down. There were eggs from multiple animals, and bacon and the requisite full wheel of cheese. 

There was enough here to feed a whole passel of dragonlings like the ones that had infested the mine she kept forgetting she owned until she had to go kill something.

“Mother, what’s this? You could feed -” and then it hit her with the force of an actual blow.

They’d been doing so well, adapting to Bethany not being here any longer. She was in the Circle now, with its damnable Templars and unscalable walls, away from where she could get her back. She’d thought her mother had...adjusted, as much as could be possible, but here were all of Bethany’s favourites and more besides.

She cleared her throat.

“Plenty of food this morning, Mother, what’s the occasion?” She’d give her mother the dignity to realise her mistake herself, and then they could figure out where to go from there. She wished this was a problem she could just stab her way out of.

Her mother just looked back at her calmly and Hawke’s heart continued to sink. “I thought you could invite Isabella down this morning, dear.” Hawke’s heart leapt back up into her throat so fast she got vertigo. Slightly dizzy, she reached out a stabilising hand to brace herself on the table.

“I don’t know what you mean?” But she never could lie to her mother -- her mother knew all of her tells -- and her rising intonation gave her away immediately.

“She’s been over the last six nights out of seven, and I’ve seen you sneaking rolls up to your room. I know you asked me not to push, and I haven’t. For a year. And granted, I wasn’t always sure how seriously either of you were taking it, but I am now. So I think it’s about time you bring her down.”

Hawke bit her lip, a little guilty. She’d needed Isabela, needed her fire and her rock hard certainty now that Bethany was away, and Isabela had been there. Come to think of it, Isabela had been there for her all along, but this was the first time she’d asked when a refusal would have hurt. But she hadn’t thought about it, and she would have gone on not thinking about it without her mother’s confrontation. She’d always known her better than she’d known herself.

But.

It felt wrong. It felt like she was being the feckless cad that Aveline accused her of being on their bad days. How could she even be thinking of companionship or even love when her sister was locked away? She should be mourning, the type that she hadn’t been able to do for her brother when she was dragging them out of Ferelden, like she couldn’t do for her father. But she had the space now, the time, the money. There was no excuse for her not to be miserable.

Some of this must have shown on her face because her mother asked her. Collapsing into a chair, she explained.

Her mother sat, and listened.

“Bethany’s not dead.” Hawke tried to make a note of protest -- she hadn’t meant to imply. “Hush and listen. She’s not dead, but no matter what, you don’t ever need to stop being happy because you’re also sad.” Her mother reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind Hawke’s ear. She leaned into it; mother smelled of flowers and safety, like always. “Life is just life, it goes on, and none of us live long enough to deny ourselves love where we can find it. I’m happy for you. And when you tell Bethany you’ve decided to stop dithering, she’ll be happy for you too.” And reaching directly to the core of the matter, like only her mother could, said: “It’s not a trade. You didn’t choose Isabela over Bethany. Tell me you understand.”

Hawke’s heart filled. But she’d always been a bit of a leaky bucket when she had a genuine emotion. She cleared her throat a couple of times.

“Yes, well.” But her mother was implacable.

“Say it.”

“I understand.” She leaned back. 

“Now go up and get her.”  And for once, Hawke did as she was told.

\--Act 3--

“I think I’m going to be sick.” She barely got the words out before she was lunging to the railing and relieving the contents of her stomach into the ocean. Isabela just stared at her dispassionately.

“I told you not to get into a drinking contest with the boson. His wooden leg is hollow, literally.”

“Yes, yes, you can mock, but where was this caution last night. Last night it was all, ‘Where’s your pride, Hawke,’ and ‘Are you just going to take this?’”

“And I stand by all of it.” 

“Great, could you stand a little further over there? I don’t think I’m empty yet.” Wisely, Isabela dodged left. Or port.  _ Ooh, don’t think about port.  _

“Well, whenever you are, come to my cabin. I’ve been working on something.”

Hawke wandered down. She took a moment to rinse and spit, getting as close to freshness as possible.

When she opened the door to the Captain’s Cabin, she blinked. And then she blinked some more.

There were candles everywhere. More than you’d need to read a smutty novel by, more even than you’d need if you were feeling a little edgy and wanting to experiment. But as her eyes adjusted to the brightness she was even more astonished.

There was a spread. The food wasn’t utterly unexpected, but the table had been set. Actual plates and actual cutlery, laid out, like they were trying to impress the neighbours.

She reached for her knives. This was a trap.

“What is this?” She aimed for her usual light tone but landed somewhere closer to Sebastian when he thought someone might be having unauthorised fun -- suspicious and ready to be judgmental.

“This, oh hungover one, is our anniversary dinner.” Anniversary? Hawke cast her mind over the dates, what month was it? They must have just celebrated All Soul’s Day so that would mean. Wait. They didn’t have an anniversaries. Anniversaries came with declarations and people chanting. She was pretty sure she’d remember.

“I don’t know what to say, this is so...unexpected.”

“Yes, well,” Isabela seemed to puff up, pleased, “have a seat.”

Dinner itself was uneventful and delicious.

“It wasn’t easy convincing the crew to help me set up, and of course distracting you presented its own challenge, but I think we managed very well.”

“I was certainly distracted. Next time, though, a little easier on the suspicious drinks in unlabeled barrels?”

“Oh all right, spoil all my fun.” Hawke couldn’t take it anymore. She threw down her napkin -- an actual  _ napkin,  _ Isabela must have stole it from somewhere. 

“If you’re kicking me off the ship, you can just say so.” Isabela startled.

“Why do you think that?”

“Fancy meal? Getting me hungover? You’re spoiling me and that can only mean you feel guilty.”

“No! It’s not like that at all.” She didn’t relax an inch.

“Then what is it like?” Isabela spun her glass in her hand.

“I want you to stay.”

“I hadn’t been planning on going anywhere.”

“And your mother told me,” _my mother? When had they talked?_ She waited for a burst of sadness at the mention of her mother. But there was nothing. Just the warmth of knowing how much her mother had cared for her. Her love had been a constant, and it followed her now. “That taking moments are important. That you have to take some special time otherwise things can get stale.” Isabela looked up at her fiercely. “And the longer we’re together the more I want to stay that way. And frankly that’s a little terrifying but here we are.”

“Oh, Isabela. You could never be boring.” And there was that crazy look that Hawke loved. “And I too, as well.” Hawke took one look at Isabela and knew this wasn’t going to cut it.

“All right, fine. I love you.” Isabela blushed, which was a feat. “And in case you haven’t noticed? I have trapped myself on a boat with you. I could be anywhere in the world, but I don’t want to be. I want to be here. When I’m with you...I’m happy.”

And it was true. Her mother had tried to tell her and she thought she’d understood, but it wasn’t til now that she really got it. Happiness wasn’t a reward for things going well, it didn’t make sense, really, it just happened.

“Right well, that’s enough of that.” And she swept the remnants of their meal onto the floor and pulled Hawke across the table. Ah, yes. Familiar ground.


End file.
